Only if for a Night
by HuntressDaugher
Summary: The day Susan's family forever disappeared from her sight, it was cold and raining. She watched as they were lowered into the ground, leaving her alone in the world. After pining for her siblings for seven sleepless months, they begin to come to her, and Susan is able to be with them, if only for a night.
1. Chapter 1

**This was inspired by Florence and the Machine's "Only If For A Night." I listened to it, and for some odd reason, thought of Susan. Appearances are based off the latest movies. **

**Please don't give up on/after this chapter, it serves a purpose (or at least to me it does).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the either song used or Narnia, yada yada, yada. **

October 1949

The day Susan's whole family forever disappeared from her sight, it was cold and raining. There were plenty of crying mourners with people to hold them, but not one for her. She had the rain and the chilly wind to cool her so she didn't feel anything; she had her umbrella to ineffectively keep away the rain; she had her handkerchief to wipe away any moisture. But there was no one to hold her.

Her father was laid to rest first, then her mother. Susan wanted to reach out for them, have them tell her everything was going to be alright. She wanted her mother to wipe her eyes, and her father to give her a hug. And she knew it would never again happen.

Her older brother was next. Peter, wonderful, golden Peter. Her big brother, the one she looked up to. Peter with all the answers, Peter with some of her deepest secrets, her confidant. Just as she looked after him, he looked after her. He was her rock, but now that rock had been ripped away.

Her younger brother followed. She wasn't as close to Edmund, not as close as she had been with the others, but her heart was crumbled to pieces even more as her younger brother was lowered. She was his protector; she tried to be his mother when they had gone away during the war, and a sister all the other times. She was secretly thrilled when he'd come to her in search of dating advice. Now who else would make jokes at family reunions, or provide a bitter, yet logical side to arguments? Who else would praise her cooking?

What silence there had been was broken when it was Edmund's turn. Susan glanced across the grave. The person who had made the sound was a friend of Susan's. At least, she had been. Marcia Abbott was a few years younger than Susan. If she remembered correctly, her eighteenth birthday had passed a month ago. The girls had met at school, and they'd been surprised that Marcia's neighbor was actually Susan's cousin. Her mind started to wander back to those days, but then she stopped herself. Those days were from a different time, a beautiful time if she was honest, and today was certainly not beautiful.

As Edmund's casket was lowered, Marcia pressed her dainty handkerchief over her mouth. When she did so, a sparkling silver ring caught Susan's sight. Another sob escaped the younger girl's lips, and she doubled over. An aging lady next to her righted her, but Marcia refused to be consoled.

Susan's heart nearly split open when the fifth casket sank into the ground. Dear, sweet, little Lucy. There was no one like her, no one at all. She couldn't bear the thought of her sister leaving her. Susan swiped furiously at her eyes, knowing her makeup was running. Lucy was too young, much too young—they all were.

She despised the train that had done this. It had left her alone in the world. She was twenty, but she might as well have been an orphan child, she was so lost. She had no parents, no siblings, even her closest cousin was gone.

The minister continued to speak. Susan didn't hear a word. What was she to do now? There was no one she could talk to. None of her girl friends would possibly listen. They'd offer condolences, but nothing else. Their ears had more important things to listen to, and their minds had more important things to think of. There was Marcia, but they hadn't spoken in years. What was the use now?

When the minister had finished, people began to trickle away. Sometimes they went by themselves, other times in groups. Soon there was just two.

Marcia caught Susan's eye. They held it for a moment, each looking into the other's tears. Marcia's pretty green eyes were red and puffy. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Susan turned away and started up the hill to the car.

* * *

Susan brushed her dark hair and put the brush down on her vanity. In the mirror, a prepossessing girl stared back at her. Susan flicked her hair over her shoulder and moved to go to bed.

There hadn't been one good night of sleep in almost seven months. She would toss and turn, or her sleep would be plagued by nightmares.

It felt like an eternity that she laid in bed, waiting for her tiredness to overtake her and sleep to come. And eventually, it did.

000

Birds chirped brightly in her ear. It was much sweeter than the birds in London, much more melodic. Susan cracked open an eye to find the sun shining down. She was lying on tall green grass. Susan pushed herself up into a sitting position and glanced around.

She was still in her blue nightgown. Her feet were bare, and there were no shoes nearby to be seen.

"East is east and west is west, and the wrong one I have chosen," a clear voice sang out. Susan turned to look over her shoulder.

A girl with dark red curls was coming towards her. She had fair, smooth skin, and lips turned up in a soft smile. She was wearing a nightgown as well, a light shade of pink, and her feet too were bare. The grass swished around her knees. The sun behind her completed the girl's angelic look, with golden rays surrounding her. "Let's move to some big town where they love a gal by the cut of her clothes."

"Marcia," Susan asked.

"Of course," Marcia giggled. She plopped down next to Susan.

"Where are we?"

Marcia's smile faded. "A good question. It is a good place, a safe place. But, my dear, you must never venture too far from here, not without one of us, and even if it is a good place, darkness will always try to extinguish the light."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Do not worry, my dear. It is not good to dwell on such things. So let us not speak of them. Remember the conversations we used to have?"

Susan stared at the girl in front of her. She looked real, but, at the same time…she didn't. She looked too robust. Her glossy hair seemed just a little bouncier and a deeper red, maybe even more curly. Her eyes glittered, and thick lashes fluttered. Her cheeks were more rosy; her skin more like porcelain. There was a calm, peaceful air about her. Marcia had always been glamorous, but in a way, this was unbelievable.

And then Susan's logical side clicked in. She had read in the paper about what happened. She hadn't wanted to believe it, even now she didn't, not after what had happened.

"I don't understand." Susan slowly started to back away. "You…it can't really be you. I mean, you—you—"

"Died." So emotionless and flat. The word coming from her mouth made Marcia look ten years older, and everything seemed a little less colorful. But then she smiled again. "Tell me, what do you think this is, Su?"

"A dream?" Susan answered after some thought. It was the only explanation.

"Practical, I supposed," Marcia confirmed with a nod. "Then again, you always were."

"What happened, Marcy?"

"It was a mix of things. Love was lost, and I got sick soon after. A cold turned to pneumonia, and my bed turned to a casket. It was like a domino effect. One thing led to another."

Susan was speechless. Marcia just shook her head. "Come now, I'm trying to get back to the old days. I missed it too." Her eyes glittered even more. "Did you know I was to be engaged?"

**"**Marcia! To whom?" Susan sat up and smiled, coming closer.

"Oh, you know him," she teased, trailing off.

"Robert? William? Jack? Sam? Maurice?" With each guess, Marcia answered with a no. Susan kept guessing every boy they'd ever met, and some that they hadn't.

Finally Susan fell backwards, her hands up by her head. "Ugh, Marcy, I give up! Just tell me."

"You'll find out soon enough," Marcia giggled. She laid down next to her, propping her head up with her hand, leaning on her elbow. The girls chatted for what seemed like hours, almost airy in conversation, and for once in what seemed like a long time, Susan was happy. It was too soon when Susan noticed a figure coming towards them. A man came into view. He was finely dressed in silk pajamas and barefoot as well. The man, she thought, was very, very handsome.

"Good evening, ladies," he purred. Susan found herself captivated by his speech.

"You aren't welcome here," Marcia said immediately, almost fearful. If she had been a dog, Susan imagined the fur on her back would have been standing up, and her ears would have been flat.

"My dear, that's not up to you, now is it?" he answered smoothly. The man took a seat next to Susan. He had dark brown, almost black hair, that just barely swept across his eyes. Susan found herself longing to reach out and brush it back. "Susan, you'll never guess what I saw."

"What's that," Susan asked, almost entranced. She thought Marcia's hand went to her shoulder.

"I saw Patty Malone coming out of Ernie Lann's apartment yesterday morning. Very early, yesterday morning." He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

Susan's eyes widened. She was about to answer, but she found herself being whipped around. Marcia pulled her face close.

"Listen to me, Susan. You must not engage in conversation with him. He will do nothing good for you, and you will not be able to stay here. You must insist that he leaves instantly."

"But Marcia—"

"No, Su. Please," she begged, eyes wide and a little scared, "tell him to leave."

Susan had never seen Marcia like this. She faced the new man again. "I believe it is time for you to go."

"Very well. If I must," he frowned. He stood, dusting his pajamas off, and went back the way he came.

"Marcia," Susan said when he was gone. "What was that all about?"

"Promise me you won't converse with him. And do not bring about things he would speak of."

Dumbfounded, Susan just shook her head, muttering something like, "I'll try."

"My time is fleeting." Marcia looked to the sky. The sun was setting slowly.

"You can't stay?"

Marcia thought carefully, her brow crinkling. Susan noticed she still scrunched her nose ever so slightly when she was in thought. "That is a tricky subject, my dear. It's more like you can't stay."

"But why?"

"You have given this up. But it's not too late; you may still have it." Marcia stretched and sat up.

"Will I see you again," Susan asked sadly. Marcia seemed different now, less of what had been, but even this lesser Marcia was more satisfying than her current situation.

"It is a possibility." She grinned. Marcia started to take small steps backwards.

"When," Susan pressed.

"Patience is a virtue," was her answer.

"Marcia," Susan said, trying to stop her. Anything to keep the girl from leaving. "I'm sorry about not speaking to you. Especially at the funeral."

"You are forgiven, Su. We will always still be friends. Remember this, what has happened tonight. You will need it. Goodbye, my dear."

"Goodbye," Susan whispered.

Marcia turned, and as she went, she began to sing her song again. With every step she took, the sun seemed to sink lower, and Susan's eyelids to droop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two, introducing my favorite character...**

When Susan woke in the morning, she felt more rested than she had in a long time. It was a sad sight that when she went to the window, she found the bleak London skyline, dreary in a morning drizzle, looking back at her.

She tried that night to go back. She tried to dream of the field and its birds, of the tall, soft grass. Most of all, she tried for Marcia. But none of it came back. In fact, she didn't remember a dream whatsoever the next morning.

It continued that way for the rest of the week. Friday and Saturday night, she even stayed home to go to bed early, yet nothing happened. Finally, that Tuesday night, she gave up. The chances of a dream so wonderful reoccurring were slim to none. She went to bed without even thinking twice of her dream with Marcia.

It was Wednesday when something happened.

0000

"You know," someone said, oddly monotone, though beginning to vary slightly at the end, "being dead is much more different than I thought it would be."

Susan lifted herself from the grass. Her eyes fell upon familiar mischievous ones. "Edmund!"

In the blink of an eye, she had her arms around his neck. Edmund laughed and hugged her back. There were tears welling up in her eyes.

"Come now, Su," Edmund said after a minute. "It hasn't been that long."

"I miss you, Ed," Susan defended.

"You could have come sooner."

He looked a bit like Marcia. Edmund was healthy, muscular. He smiled brightly, and there too appeared to be a golden glow about him. His quick eyes and quirked lip looked ever mischievous, which was equal parts painful and delightful.

"I tried to dream again," she explained, rushed. "Every night at first. But I couldn't get back."

He snorted, as if it were obvious. "Of course not. You do not control time or your dreams. I thought Marcia told you to be patient, did she not? Or did you not listen? But, now," he said with an air of finality, "there are more important things to be done: dinner."

He waved her to turn, and there was a long stone table behind her when she did. It was bare, save for a few empty wooden bowls and platters. Susan didn't understand. Edmund took his dining seriously, but this…it was like a joke. He'd never quite been one for make believe, and she couldn't imagine that it would be different after death.

"So, what will you have?"

"What do you mean?" Susan scanned the table, just in case she had missed something, but it was still devoid of food. "There's nothing here."

Edmund tsked at her. As if it was plain to see, he said simply, "Just ask, you unbeliever. Anything you want?"

"How about smoked ham," she suggested. Edmund grinned impishly. "And green beans, and diced potatoes, and creamed corn, with honey rolls."

Edmund picked up one of the bowls and ladled out green beans. He did the same with every one of the things she had suggested, putting them on her plate with a pleased grin.

"How did you do that?"

"I did nothing. You just have to believe. And don't ask questions."

"You are telling me I believe and not ask questions?" Susan arched her eyebrows. Ed shrugged.

"I did it for a while. I still do it." He paused. "I wish you would too."

"I don't understand. You're making less sense thank Marcia did, Ed."

"Marcia," Edmund laughed quietly. "I know she told you something good. She did her job well."

"You speak as if she's not coming back."

He shrugged noncommittally. "She might. I couldn't tell you if she was. As I said, she did her job, showed you what she needed to."

"But I don't—"

"Ah, Susan. We meet again." It was the voice, the most suave sound she'd ever heard, though now it sounded almost oily.

Susan looked over her shoulder. There was the same handsome man that had shown up when she was with Marcia. He made her nervous, and, if she wasn't mistaken, anxious. He took a seat next to her on the stone bench.

"And Edmund, it's nice to see you're doing well."

"I'm sure you're happy," Edmund replied cooly. He tapped his foot under the table, and Susan wondered exactly why he was this uneasy.

Ignoring the comment, the man went on. "Susan, allow me to offer you something sweet." He held out a plate full of something chocolate. Susan started to reach for one.

"Don't!" Edmund commanded sharply. Susan jerked her hand away like the plate had caught fire.

"Why," she yelled back. They looked delicious—warm, gooey, like they would melt in the mouth. Why would Edmund decline chocolate?

"They're not good. Don't you remember? Don't you remember me?"

Susan stared at him, unable to answer. Her jaw flapped momentarily, and she stammered unintelligible words before getting out, "Edmund, that—it wasn't real. Just a child's game."

"Are you sure? You're sounding an awful lot like someone else we used to know. When she gave no reply, he smiled in victory. "He needs to leave, Susan. And only you can make him do that. Tell him. Tell him you don't want what he offers."

"Edmund, let's be reasonable."

"Susan, I _am_ reasonable."

That hit her harder than anything he'd said before. Edmund was reasonable. He was level-headed, practical on almost all things to the point of being cool.

"Please," Susan finally whispered. "I don't want any. You need to go."

The man didn't say anything. He simply stood and walked away, just like he had come.

"Very good, Susan. You're doing better," Edmund praised. He smiled, and Susan couldn't help but smile back.

"I still don't understand."

"You don't need to. Just trust it."

She noticed the sun was starting to set. Edmund looked a little less bright. Thinking back to the night with Marcia, Susan felt her heart start to speed up. Ed couldn't leave. She needed him, she needed his logic. She needed him to keep her on her toes and sane.

"You have to learn to get on," Edmund said as if reading her thoughts. He stood and pushed away from the table. "Susan, promise to remember this. Don't forget it like you've tried to do everything else."

"I promise, Ed." Her voice sounded so small, especially in comparison to his, which was confident and knowing.

"I love you, Susan." He came around to her side of the table. She stood when he did, and they embraced once more.

"I love you too, Edmund." Tears started to spill over.

"Remember this," he called back. Edmund started to walk away, leaving Susan by herself at the table. It was supposed to be a dream, but Susan wasn't able to deny that she felt tired. When he was just a speck on the horizon, she had to sit back down, resting her head on her arms.

0000

Again, Susan woke in the morning feeling refreshed, but at the same time, shaky. _It's only a dream_, she reminded herself, sadly. And as she scooted over on her pillow, she noticed something strange.

If it was only a dream, then why was her pillow wet?

Susan felt her mouth; she didn't usually drool, and there was no sign that she had during the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for any errors, especially the bolding stuff. I'm Copy-N-Pasting and it always turns out screwy. The song that Marcia sang and that is on the radio is called "Buttons and Bows."**

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing.**

That night, Susan tried to do what Marcia and Edmund had told her. She tried not to purposefully dream about the field, or her family, but she wasn't as successful as she wished. It was so perfect there, wherever _there_ was, so perfect and so soothing. And she was only dreaming long enough to free herself of restraint before it was taken away. It was like someone ripping away a blanket after you'd just warmed up.

Susan went through the day a bit grumpy, but no one really paid much attention. She hadn't quite been the same since she'd gotten the call that day. Coworkers could recall her answering the phone mid-laugh, her face falling as she listened. She'd gone back to work after hanging up until it was lunch break, and then she'd told them she was leaving on account of family matters.

After work, she went home tired and hungry. Susan found nothing appealing in her cabinets, and she mentally made a note to go to the store the next day. Reheating a bowl of leftover soup, she listened to the radio as she ate, turning it up when a familiar song came on.

_Gimme eastern trimmin' where women are women_

_ In high silk hose and peek-a-boo clothes_

_ And French perfume that rocks the room_

_ And I'm all yours in buttons and bows._

She couldn't help but think that Marcia sang it better.

It was actually early when she fell asleep on the couch, an open book in her lap and the radio playing in the background.

OOO

It was a happy feeling that came over her when she came to in her dream.

Susan saw the same picturesque meadow, with its swaying grass and bright, yet not hot, sun. This time there were poppies, large red ones, dotting the field. At the edge was the woods, which she had yet to venture into. They were dark, ominous, yet somehow...enticing. It was as if they were wanting her to come. But Marcia's words stayed with her, and she pushed the urge away.

Susan was content to sit and wait. It wasn't long until she saw a slim figure running towards her. At first, she thought it was Marcia, and she almost called out, but upon further examination, she realized that the figure didn't have enough curly hair, and that it was too light to be Marcia's dark red.

And then came the laugh. The sweet, beautiful laugh that she had known practically all her life.

Lucy came to her, giggling all the while with her wonderfully bright smile. Susan wasn't even able to make it off the ground, instead lay at her feet, she was sobbing so hard for her lost sister.

Lucy sank down next to her. "Oh, Susan," she laughed, letting her own tears out. Susan said not a word. She shook her head and kept crying. Lucy tilted the older girl's head up to her, kissing her forehead. "Don't cry, sister," she shushed.

Finally Susan was able to recompose herself. Glad she had removed her makeup before reading, she dried her eyes and wiped her nose with the back of her hand; when she did that, Lucy started to giggle again, and Susan had to join her.

"I've missed your laugh, Lucy," Susan admitted. Lucy just shook her long, golden hair.

"I've missed you too. Tell me, how have your…experiences been going?"

"Oh, Lu, they don't make a lick of sense. Marcia's telling me not to speak, and Edmund's saying not to eat things. I don't understand."

Lucy laughed, "That's because it's just now my turn."

"I'm sure it'll be much clearer." Susan rolled her eyes.

With that, Lucy stood and pulled Susan along with her. She twirled wildly, enticing her older sister to join in. Her long blond ringlets moved freely, sometimes obscuring her face, other times flowing out behind her. Her laughter was music after the months Susan had spend alone.

And Susan did join her. She put her arms out and twirled with Lucy. They cartwheeled, flipped, stood on their hands. Lucy's blue skirts fell down around her head, but she landed with a thud on her back, giggling her silly head off. Susan plopped down next to her.

Absentmindedly, Lucy's fingers reached for a few of the poppies, which she then began to braid together. She looked at Susan expectantly, and Susan followed her actions, weaving the flowers together in a crown like they had done as children. That time seemed so long ago, much too long, Susan realized. Lucy placed it on her head when she was done.

"Let's play hide-and-seek," Lucy declared. Again she pulled Susan up, but this time, they headed for the woods.

Susan stopped her before she crossed the invisible, imaginary fence separating the field from the woods. "Marcia said I wasn't supposed to go in there."

"No," Lucy disagreed, shaking her head. "Marcia said you shouldn't go in there by yourself. You can't do it alone, Susan."

"Can't do what alone?"

"Anything," Lucy shrugged. "But you have me, so let's go. There's nowhere to hide here. I'll count first."

Lucy pressed her eyes into her arm, resting against a tree. Without giving it a second thought, Susan took off through the woods. She found a tree with a low branch and hoisted herself up into its arms.

It was soon when Lucy found her. Susan repeated the process for her sister, alternating the turns with her.

Susan was searching for her sister when she heard someone go by. She whipped around, only to find a dark head dart by. "Edmund?"

Susan dashed after him, and then she thought she could make out singing. "Marcia?" No sign of Edmund, she decided, taking off after a swish of red. Before long, Susan found herself much deeper in the woods than she thought she should be. The sun no longer shone through the trees, and there wasn't half as much wildlife sounds. Her heart started to beat just a little bit faster.

"Ed," she called. "Marcia? Lucy?"

"Susan," said that voice. She knew she would find the handsome man when she turned around.

"It's you," she whispered. "I—I don't know where I am."

"My dear," he tutted, holding an arm out. "Allow me to help you."

"_Tell him to go away_," Marcia had said.

"_Tell him you don't want what he offers_," had been Edmund's words.

"N-no," Susan stammered. She backed away. "No thank you. I can find my own way."

"Don't be a foolish girl," he laughed, it wasn't a pleasant sound, and it wasn't amused. It was rough, dry, and it reminded her of dead leaves scraping along the sidewalk. "You can't do anything by yourself."

"Of course I can. Now leave me be," she snapped harshly.

He let out an aggravated breath. His fair skin looked pale, almost sickly, and his dark eyes, which once seemed inviting, were now blazing. "As you wish."

With that, he retreated back the way he had come.

Susan watched until he was out of sight, and alone, she sat down dejectedly on the ground. He was right; she couldn't get out by herself. She took a blade of grass around her finger, yanking it from its home in the ground.

Finally, feeling an eternity had passed by, she called out, "Help?" It was so faint and weak that she doubted anyone had heard.

Not long after that, a blue blur swung down from the tree above her, and Susan screamed. In response, she received a lovely cackle from a grinning, familiar face.

"Lucy!"

Lucy dangled from the branch, and then dropped down, landing agilely on her feet. The younger sister took Susan by the hand to lead her back. "Susan, you did it without my urging! And to think Marcia and Edmund said you were reluctant."

"Lucy, will you please explain? All of this is—"

"Susan. Listen to me. My limited time is fleeting." Light started to come in more heavily, but Susan could tell that day was going down to dusk. "Keep doing that, alright? It's for your best. Remember I love you."

"Lucy, I love you too."

"And remember," Lucy instructed. Their feet touched the grass, which was hardly swaying. A few stars twinkled above in the sky.

"Remember what?" Susan dropped to her knees, grass comin to her shoulders. It was higher than before their game.

In reply, Lucy smiled, letting a little laugh escape her lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to MCH for reviewing. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, nor do I own _The Fox and the Hound, _whose song helps out later. And speaking of songs, I don't own Florence and the Machine's "Only If For A Night," but I will recommend listening to it, though I'm in no way benefitted.**

Friday night, Susan's friends invited her to a party. She primped herself for almost two hours after work, curling her dark hair into perfection and painting her lips a bright red that only she could pull off. She tried on one of her favorite dresses, a shade of plum that had been a favorite of Marcia's, smiling at herself in the mirror; her accentuated chest made her waist look more narrow. But again, she thought of Marcia, and she traded it for something looser and with a more modest neckline.

At the party, she spent an hour sitting on an ottoman by herself in the corner. Someone had handed her a cup of some sort of alcohol when she'd walked in, but she'd only sipped from it a few times. Plenty of people came to talk, more than half of them men asking for a dance, but she couldn't seem to get in the mood. After another thirty minutes, she excused herself and went home, going to bed especially early for a Friday.

Susan knew there was only one more person whom she had not seen, yet when he walked through the field, up a hill to her, she still was not prepared.

Like Marcia, the sun cast a golden glow around him. His light hair curled ever so slightly at the ends, and despite his young age, his face was covered in the makings of a future beard; beneath it he was smiling. His broad, thick shoulders were pushed back. He wore not night dressings, but bright red robes like that of a prince or knight. A sword decorated his hip. Atop his head was a jeweled crown.

Susan ran to him, and he swept her up. She found herself being swung in a circle, only to be planted firmly back on the ground. He held her sobbing form in his strong arms. "Don't cry, Susan."

"Oh, Peter," she cried. "Peter…"

"Hush, Su." Peter, smiling, pushed her back when Susan had gathered herself. A hand under her chin, he tilted her face up to him. "High Queens don't cry."

"Pete, don't start that."

And then, the meadow started to slip away. Fear that her time with him was already up struck her, but the meadow only started to dissolve. The trees turned stone walls, and the grass melted to hard floors. The hill she was standing on became a balcony, with stairs on either side, a luxurious red runner going down them. Susan looked down at her clothing to find a deep green ball gown in place of her nightgown. She felt her head, and her hands met something cold. She brought it to her eyes; it was a dainty silver crown.

"Peter, what's going on?"

Peter placed the crown back on her head and made her face the room. Below them milled creatures of all sorts: humans, dwarves, fauns.

"Now introducing High King Peter the Magnificent. Queen Susan the Gentle," a booming voice announced. Peter moved away from her and went to the left set of stairs, and Susan found herself going to the right. At the bottom Peter took her hand and led her to the side.

"Now announcing King Edmund the Just. Queen Lucy the Valiant." Susan jerked to look up the balcony. Down came her two younger siblings. She watched as Lucy was joined by someone else at the bottom.

"Is that—"

"Mr. Tumnus, of course," Peter finished. "They always dance together."

"Dance?" Susan questioned, but then she noticed they were in the middle of the floor. The music started, and if her feet had forgotten the steps, no one watching would have known. She swayed and twirled gracefully, finding a comfort in the movement and Peter's arms. She lost herself in the beat; nothing but the dance clouded her mind, and it was three songs later that she noticed someone from the corner of her eye.

"Peter, is that Marcia? Dancing with Edmund?"

"It is," Peter confirmed. He smiled sleepily at them over her shoulder. "Who would have thought Edmund would have been first?"

"First? You mean he was Marcia's—"

"Yes, Susan. Everyone knew."

"I didn't," she huffed indignantly.

"Were you ever around to find out?"

"Well, no. I suppose I wasn't." Color rose to her neck at the realization that Peter was right. In the year before her family's death, she'd maybe seen them a total of five times.

Susan casted her own attention to her younger brother and his partner. Imagine, her own brother, finding favor in a childhood friend. They appeared to be talking, as they grinned and laughed, and Susan couldn't help but notice that no man had ever looked at her the way Edmund looked at Marcy.

"Peter, they look so wonderful." Her brother did not answer, instead gazing after the duo. Edmund spun Marcia, and her lavender skirts billowed out. Marcia's long red curls fell almost to her waist, and when Edmund brought her back to him, he pushed a lock behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. "She's so beautiful."

After a moment's pause, Susan added, "Everything is."

"It is if you make it." Peter stopped dancing. "Su, this is who you are. These are the sort you should be with. Take from this, all of it."

Susan felt her heart skip and speed up. It was coming. The goodbye. Her throat tightened; the tears were ready, but not enough preparation in the world could have made her ready for it.

"Peter, please. Don't."

"I'm not quite done. Watch Edmund. See how he looks at Marcia, and how he treats her. She is not a queen of Narnia, nor royalty of any sort, but by watching him, you would never know it. You must wait, sister. Do not accept less."

Susan glanced at them one last time. They too were no longer dancing, instead standing in the middle of the floor. Edmund held her close, and every word he spoke, every gesture of his hand, seemed gentle, something Susan never would have associated with him; it was both heartwarming and breaking to see her little brother that way. If she wasn't mistaken, she felt a pang of what was jealousy when Edmund leaned forward, letting his lips grace her forehead, Marcia's eyes closing with a smile she'd never seen on her friend's face.

"Goodbye may seem forever, but it doesn't have to be." She looked back to Peter's face as he spoke.

"In my heart," came Lucy's voice. Susan turned to find her siblings and Marcia behind her. They all had the same smile on their face, but Susan could find it in herself to mirror it. "Is a memory."

"And there you'll always be," Edmund finished. Her kissed her once on the cheek before returning to Marcia and Lucy's sides.

"Remember, Susan. Once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia."

Their image started to flicker. She wanted to cry, to scream not to leave, because somehow this farewell did seem like the end; but something held her back, and she could not. So Susan watched as they slipped away, until the weight of Peter's fingers could no longer be felt on her own, and her marvelous family left her sight. The ballroom faded to the meadow, and Susan was left standing in the center of it alone, barefoot, and in her nightgown, wondering if this was how Cinderella had felt, her one stunning night ripped away.

"It's a terrible tragedy, isn't it?"

There it was, that voice that sounded too good to be true. She felt his chilling presence beside her.

"Take a walk with me, my dear?"

"They told me I shouldn't."

"And you always do what they say."

Susan refused to turn around and look at him. "No, but something tells me that I should this time." She heard him sigh, followed by the swish of grass that told her he was leaving.

She laid back in the grass and watched the stars come out. They twinkled above her, and she felt mocked. It was as if they were laughing at her misfortune. _This must be it_, she decided. _There's no one left to visit_. In effort to ignore the stars, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was looking at her apartment bedroom.

**So there's the last sibling, but Peter's not the last chapter. If you like it so far (or not at all, for that matter), feel free to drop a review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am incredibly sorry for this taking so long, which would be due to a mix of school, Zelda, and weather. Plus some laziness on my part. Anyways, thank you to those who reviewed; for that, I'm much obliged. Reviews are beyond greatly appreciated. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Everyone was gone, yet she was still here. With a sigh, she reluctantly pushed herself into a sitting position. Already the sun was setting, lighting the sky in an array of pink and orange. Behind her, there was the swishing of grass that she knew now to be someone walking. She glanced over her shoulder to find him.

He was the most ordinary man she had ever laid eyes on, what with his mousy hair and light brown eyes, average stature, and yet…she couldn't help but think he was absolutely beautiful. He had a peaceful expression on his face, as if he was just content to be there.

"Yesterday you declined a walk. Will you take one with me?"

She didn't know what made her, but she agreed. His aura was warm, safe even, almost opposite of the other man, and she swore she knew him. So they walked along through the field, not making a sound.

"You've done well," he said at last, but Susan couldn't help but wonder what pushed him to speak.

"I don't understand what I'm doing," she admitted with a nervous laugh. There the butterflies in her stomach fluttered lightly.

"Do you trust their advice?"

"Well…yes. Of course, I'd trust them with my life. I just don't know what they mean by it."

"Tell me, Susan—"

"How do you know my name?"

"I know your name, just as I know Marcia's name, your sister, Lucy's, your brothers Edmund and Peter. I know your friend Dinah who invited you to the party last night in your world has just gotten engaged to her boyfriend, Jack, and you don't know what to think of it. I know you, just as you know me."

"But I don't. I don't know you at all."

"You do. You know me by one name. Your siblings, on the other hand, followed my instruction and sought me out in your world; they came to know me by two. It seems as though you have taken longer to do the same."

"I still don't quite understand." Far away, the sound of crashing water met their ears.

"What do you think this is," he asked patiently.

"There must be some reason behind it—I know there must—I just…I don't understand. My mind is saying it's a dream but—but I know it isn't true. I feel everything just like I do in my waking state, but that shouldn't be possible. This is too real to be a dream. My brothers and Lucy are talking to me, just as alive as they were six months ago. I know it."

"You have chosen to follow me tonight, a stranger you say you do not know, and not the other man whom you have met times before me. Or in this world you have. Will you do the same in your world?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "I just don't know!"

"Your family has entered my kingdom because of this. They wait on you, for you to know me and for your time to come. My child, if you will accept their messages and think on them, you will understand."

They halted at a cliff that overlooked the sea. Memories flooded her mind, and she didn't speak. She could see herself on horseback gazing over the water from this very spot. Far off, Lucy and Peter splashed through the water, their shrieks and laughter as clear now as it had been all those years ago. Edmund, hands clasped behind his back, strode purposefully in though just at the water's edge. For the second time that night, she felt herself crying, though this time silently, almost controlled.

"It is all I ask of you, Susan. Turn away from him and come to me. Seek me in your world, my child." Susan went to look at him again, the wonderful, the curious man, but he was no longer there. There was no trace of him, no sign he'd ever been there, but she knew he had. He had been as real as she was.

* * *

It started with the cleaning of her closet.

Every morning, it seemed, she would try on a dress and find some new fault in it—the neckline would somehow be too low, and for once in a long time, she thought that some of her clothes were too tight—and she'd be forced to change into a different one; tossing the first into an ever-growing pile at the foot of her bed.

She was slowly withdrawing from her friends, save for Dinah and Jack; for some reason, since the plain man had mentioned them, she couldn't let them go. There was no more going out for drinks and dancing, and weekend parties lacked her presence. Susan fell into a routine, rising in the morning and going to work, then coming home immediately after, and nearly two weeks passed without another dream.

It was Saturday evening when she was running errands. She'd just finished taking a dinner break at a cafe when she stepped back onto the desolate cobblestone street and made to head towards the market for groceries when she heard a voice.

"Come to me," it said, low and caring. She looked both ways again, and this time the backs of two people caught her eye.

The girl on the left was petite. She sported a wool trench coat in deep purple, and a lavender skirt peeped out from under it. Her red curls were long and dark, bouncing with every step. Her escort wore a similar coat in black; the collar, like always, was turned up in the back, and Susan smiled to herself. The girl finally noticed and reached up to fix it.

Susan felt herself drawn to them. She moved to follow the pair, and when she did, she heard another voice, though this time not singing. "Come, my dear. We can help you get there."

_You're going mad, Susan Pevensie, barking mad_, she told herself. They rounded a corner, and Susan quickened her pace so as not to lose them. But when she turned the street, she found it just as barren as the one she'd first entered. _Like a hatter_.

The street ended just as it perpendicularly intersected another one down the way. She frowned at the emptiness, scolding herself for being so foolish as to even think of following two people she didn't know.

_But you did know them_, another part of her insisted. _It was Ed and Marcia_.

With a sigh, she checked her watch, wondering if she would still have enough time for groceries. She was just starting to go when there was the forlorn click of footsteps on the pavement and a man came from the other street.

He caught her eye, tipping his tan hat, and Susan gasped when when she saw his face. No doubt in her mind, it was him, the good one from the cliffs. Without thinking, she took off towards him. He opened the red doors to a stone church and went inside.

Susan stopped at the doors. The church was small, yet she couldn't help but to feel like it loomed over her intimidatingly. It was probably a beautiful building, but that beauty was lost to her. She took a deep breath and pulled back on the door.

He sat on a pew in the very front row. She steeled her nerves and went to take a seat beside him. He held his hat in his hands, resting it on his lap, peacefully observing the empty pulpit. A large stone cross was hung on the back wall.

"Have you figured it out," he asked finally, and it almost startled Susan that he'd acknowledged her.

"No," she deadpanned, scoffing.

"Have you really thought on it?"

"Well, I've mulled it over a little, but it's still just hazy."

"I must say, you have done what I asked," he told her. "Physically, of course, but that's better than nothing." He smiled at her. Though she felt slightly insulted, she couldn't help the corners of her lips twitching upwards. "It's progress nonetheless."

The man stood. He brushed off his hat and looked back down at her. "If you ever need me, just call my name, and I'll be there."

"But," Susan interjected, "I don't even know your name!"

If there was any part of this man that was sly, it was shown in his grin. "Yes, you do. It's different than in Narnia, but I am still the same."

Susan watched him go. As he reached the door, he paused for a moment and then turned back to her. His smile reminded her of her father, and he gave her one more snippet of his strange wisdom before leaving. "Sometimes, Susan, the wrong decisions bring us to where we need to be."


End file.
